How many second chances does it take to change a lightbulb?

It takes what it takes, that's how many. Or so I'm told.

For whatever reason, I have been given yet another second chance. An amazing library job in one of the most beautiful places in the world.  Santa Fe, New Mexico. Home.

Word came in January.

My daughter and I packed up the car and the dog and the cat, and off we went on a lovely  three-day, 1,300-mile adventure. We stayed in charming, cheap old Route 66 hotels, and we stopped at the Cadillac Ranch, and we drove into the high desert. I took my daughter to the Santa Fe airport to fly home. And now here I am, a month into my new job and in awe of what's become of me.

That's not to say it's been easy. There have been tears and painful endings. My finances have really taken a beating, and I've got a condo to clean up and sell. Sometimes I'm lonely and a little afraid, and I'm probably sleeping more than I should. I miss my wonderful kid and my dear friends. Georgia is slipping through my fingers, That place, that time is a dream I want to remember forever, but I know that dreams fade. I grieve as I divest myself of commitments there, one by one.

On this end of the road, though, there's footwork to keep me busy. I've found a sponsor and a home group. I'm sharing at meetings.  I'm finally beginning to explore the city after a few weeks of hibernating in my safe little adobe house,  I'm even starting to dip my toes into some social activities. There's a hell of a lot to do here, and an awful lot of smart, interesting people.

But this is a town full of writers and artists and incredible beauty, and that's calling something deep within, It's reminding me
that I have to write. I just do. It's part of this second chance I've been given.

And so it's time to look inside. Time to discard the dark cloak of writer's block.

Time to brave the naked page once again.